


Decaying Words

by cytrusfriend



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, One-Shot, Past and Present, Prison AU, Serial Killer!Shane, Solitary, bfu, ghost-proof, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 10:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12555196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cytrusfriend/pseuds/cytrusfriend
Summary: Ryan and Brent, while investigating the ruins of an old prison, come across a journal written by one of the former prisoners.(A short one-shot written based off a prompt given by @bfu60min on Tumblr)





	Decaying Words

**Author's Note:**

> Original post here: https://justrazorboy.tumblr.com/post/166926796184/decaying-words

_Page 1_

_Time -- what a weird concept. It exists, but is simultaneously just another thing the human race has come up with to bring order to society. The change between night and day, the change of seasons, our failed attempts to keep from growing old and dying in this cruel, short existence; all real. But who was the fool to come up with the measurement of time? Hours, minutes, seconds? Why did everyone agree to follow this? I theorize it's because as humans, we feel the need to understand. Understand why it is things work the way they do, and to bring some kind of closure to life. We need time because without it, we'd be lost._

_I'm lost. I don't know how long I've been here, or what time of day it even is. Has the sun risen? Is it just starting to set? Is there snow, or is summer just beginning? Without the ability to tell time, everything just feels... Slow. Time is passing, that I know, but only because I can hear others going about their day. Prisoners yelling from somewhere distant, and the occasional footsteps of guards walking past. Without those indicators, I'd be stuck in a dark hole. Unable to control my thoughts. My dark, regretful thoughts."_

"Ryan-"

Ryan whipped around, the book slipping from his grasp and plummeting to the cemented floor. As he steadied his breathing, which had quickened at twice its usual pace to keep up with his beating heart, his eyes narrowed at the man in front of him. "Jesus Christ, Brent! You can't just sneak up on me like that." Ryan hissed, shielding his eyes as the beam of light from his partner's flashlight passed by his face.

"Me, scare you? You're the one who suddenly disappeared!" Brent pushed the rest of his body through the cell's doorway, his head barely missing a cobweb hanging above. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ryan bent down to retrieve the book he had been reading. Considering its age, it was in decent condition. The pages were stained yellow and only a few were detached from its spine, but the words still readable. The cover, however, was skimmed in mold after years of abandonment and rot. "I found a journal of sorts. I think it may have belonged to a prisoner here." He turned and held the object out for Brent to inspect. The camera crew following his lead got closer, hoping for a nice shot for the episode.

"You're telling me this thing has been sitting here for nearly fifty years?" Brent asked with obvious disgust. He waved his flashlight across the cell, taking in the surroundings of which it had been discovered in. It was a nearly empty room with nothing but a rusted toilet in one corner, and piles of rubble littering the majority of the floor's surface.

"Precisely, yes."

_Page 103_

_My stomach won't stop begging for food, and my throat for water. I can practically feel the inside of my body rotting away with each passing moment. How long has it been since I've eaten? Guards pass by regularly but never stop. Perhaps they've forgotten about me. Or, more likely, decided I should finally die for my crimes. But that's quite an unfair situation, dare I say. They have the death penalty for a reason._

_I resorted to drinking my piss a few hours ago (hours? days? minutes? I can't tell anymore). It's certainly not the most ideal, but at least I can quench my dehydration a little bit. Less suffering on my part--No, more suffering; much more suffering. What a stupid idea. Prolonged death is never a good option._

_Hah. So this is how I'll die. Covered in my own piss and shit, as pale and thin as a skeleton. Perhaps already a skeleton, if the guards truly did forget about me. Those idiots. I can see their faces now, the smell of my decaying body overwhelming their senses -- opening my cell door to find my lifeless corpse, propped against this wall. The news headlines would probably be praising my death; 'Serial Killer Shane Madej Found Dead in Solitary Cell, Covered in Own Bodily Excretions.'_

"This is horrific." Brent interrupted, his face scrunching up.

Ryan nodded slowly. "Sad, too. Even if he was a serial killer..." His words trailed off as his mind began to wander. He pictured what it would be like to be in Shane's position; all alone, going insane.

Dying.

A shiver ran up his spine. They weren't pleasant thoughts at all.

"How did a guy in solitary have access to a journal and ink anyway?" Brent questioned, gesturing for one of the camera guys to get a close-up of the page they had just read from.

"Must have smuggled it in somehow. Prisoners in this solitary block were rarely checked on, so it makes sense if it was never discovered." Ryan shrugged, not entirely sure of his answer. The situation was weird in itself; a prisoner just being abandoned like that. Surely the staff couldn't be that forgetful.

_Page 132_

_Footsteps. I hear them. Coming closer, echoing down the hall! Maybe if I scream I can finally get their attention-_

_... They ignored me. I screamed until I collapsed, but they just kept walking. My body is too weak to move anymore. I won't be surprised if these are the last words I write before finally succumbing to my death. I wonder what will be waiting for me on the other side? Huh, I really am going crazy. I've never been a religious person, so darkness. That's the only logical explanation. No God, no afterlife... Just eternal sleep._

_Before his passing, my old cellmate used to talk constantly about ghosts. Spirits. The people who are leaving something behind when they die, unfinished business that they have, so their souls are stuck on Earth._

_Even if ghosts existed, that's not where I'll end up. I have nothing to keep me here. My family hates me, always have. But who can blame them? I'm a maniac. Insane. Fucked up in the head. I've done all of the work I needed to do. All those lives I took; I'm repaying for them by being here. I don't owe money. Nothing._

_I'm ghost-proof._

_I'll just slip into the darkness and wither away._

"Ryan we need to go, our time is up. That tour lady will be back any minute to lead us out." Brent moved his flashlight from where it was directed at the book and started to talk with the camera crew.

"We skipped so much of his story, though..." Ryan whispered, flipping back through the many pages they had jumped across. So many words gone unread. How could they just leave it here, to probably never be found again? Without a second thought, Ryan grabbed one of their equipment bags and stuffed the book inside. He absolutely could not leave it behind.

"Yo- Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Brent asked worriedly, catching Ryan's act. "That's stealing!"

Ryan zipped the bag shut and laughed darkly. "Stealing? They wouldn't even know it's gone, clearly if it's been sitting here for decades!" Usually, he wasn't the type to take risks or commit crimes, but something about this man's story made him need to take it with him. Before either could get another word out, they were approached by the lady from earlier who had guided them through the prison.

"Any luck?" She asked, eyeing the two boys.

"Nah. Nothing very compelling," Brent replied, his gaze shifting to Ryan. He wasn't about to rat his friend out, but he would much rather leave with a guilt-free conscious.

"May I ask a question about this cell?" Ryan asked the woman, who nodded. "According to our research, a man named Shane Madej once resided here. Do you have any information on him?"

Brent could have very well strangled Ryan right there but remained silent. After all, he was a little curious himself.

"Ah, Shane Madej -- he was jailed for murder, about seven counts if I recall correctly. While in prison he murdered his cellmate for no given explanation and was sent here to solitary. It's actually kind of a scary thought, because he was here for about four months in total, including when the prison was shut down and abandoned. All of the other prisoners were relocated across the country, but somehow their records got messed up. He was left behind, unheard of for years. Nobody had any reason to enter this place until a new landowner swept the place clean. He found Shane's skeleton right there," she pointed to a corner of the cell, close to where Ryan had originally found the journal. "And that was that. They identified him after finding out from the old warden that he had been the only one in solitary within a month before the shutdown. He insisted they had moved Shane back to his regular cell but, obviously, that wasn't the case. After determining the timeline, and using modern testing, it is believed that he would have been alive in this cell for over a week after the shutdown, before his death. So, in short, it's quite a mystery. No one is exactly sure of how that had happened."

Ryan gaped at the woman. "They just... Left him here? That's absurd!" He exclaimed, trying to fit together the story in his mind. How was that even possible?

Leaving him to his thoughts, the group followed the woman out of the prison. It was only four in the morning so it was still dark outside. He, Brent and their crew thanked the woman before parting ways. It wasn't until they were back at their hotel, Ryan flipping through the pages of the stolen journal, when something suddenly clicked in his mind.

"Brent... If the prison was abandoned over a week before Shane's death, then whose footsteps and voices was he hearing?"

Brent was silent for several moments before his lips tugged upwards, producing a grin. “I guess the guy wasn’t so ghost-proof after all.”


End file.
